As you may have noticed, I’ve been away for a while. On a spiritual quest to determine the meaning of life, if you must know. And now I’m back, and yes, I know the answer.

But first, Grasshopper, you must mow my lawn. Using your own gasoline. Good luck. The perpetual rain here in Central Cowland has transformed our seven acres of Midwestern scrubland into Amazon North, complete with weird clinging vines, exotic avian species, and, my personal fave, clouds of biting insects. We also seem to have become the local animal sanctuary, and are now providing a habitat for hundreds of rabbits, platoons of raccoons, a major underground city of groundhogs, several skunks, two humongous turkey vultures, a large owl, a redtailed hawk (a very cool looking critter, by the way), an endless parade of squirrels and chipmunks, frogs, snakes both great and small, and (this is new) a small herd of deer, which Brownie the Dog enjoys chasing across the front yard several times a week. We also have, not surprisingly, a pack of coyotes living in the field across the road, who come right up to the house late at night. When the fire engines start up in town several miles away, they start to howl along with the sirens.

Anyway, here is the July issue of TWD, formerly known as the June issue, rumored to have been originally intended as the May issue. I am compelled (by the rising cost of cat food, if nothing else) to point out that folks who subscribe to TWD-by-Email have been receiving these columns like clockwork throughout our recent web hiatus.

Oh, right. The meaning of life.Be kind. Beyond that, beats me. But as Pogo said, Don’t take life so serious. It ain’t nohow permanent.